Gatecrash
by xxskyWriterxx
Summary: What began as a simple dance invitation blossomed into a full scale gatecrash operation that blossomed into crazier proportions than Butch could have ever imagined. Butch's POV.
1. Chapter 1

Perfect perfect perfect. Life was so perfect. Sweet as a can of Coke or a giant glazed doughnut. Never mind the calories or the high fructose corn syrup; just bite into that Twinkie and taste that fluffy stuff inside. Sugar is the best. That's what I felt like as I bounded up the carpeted staircase like Bugs Bunny; like I was seriously sugar high, my head all floaty and my limbs all free and fidgety, like I wanted to go somewhere. Like Colombia maybe; Buenos dias, humanos. Viva es un buen pastel. I like that; "Life is a good cake" Maybe that should be my new motto. Life is a good cake. Life is a great big taco. Life is a tremendous vat of Coke. Yum.

I sauntered across the bedroom and leaned out the windowsill of the middle window, gazing lazily at the sun glazed suburban street outside, the golden light of the afternoon slanting through the glass, filling the bedroom with a soft, almost sweet glow. Like honey. And boy, was today ever the perfect day for it to look like that. **The** perfect day. It was the day of Pokey Oaks Middle School's spring dance! God, I'd been dreaming of this day forever! Who cares that I couldn't dance any better than a rock!! I had the whole night planned out in my head…I'd had it planned months in advance. *sigh* I just couldn't wait. It was like being Prince Charming in a stupid fairy tale, except with some pizzazz! And a kick-butt girl.

My smile widened and my eyes gazed dreamily through the glass as I leaned heavily against the windowsill. And that's when I noticed my reflection and my face fell instantly; my hair didn't actually look like that, did it?!! Hell's bells. I turned and ran for bedroom door, heading for the bathroom in the hall and my beloved bottle of hair gel. Just as my hand grasped the knob of the bedroom door, somebody opened it from outside and I tumbled head over heels onto the carpet with an agonizing thud. I looked up in panic; please, God, let it not be Buttercup. And it wasn't; it was Boomer, looking down at me, confused.

"What are you **doing**?!" he exclaimed as I swiftly stood up and dusted off my clothes.

"I'm going to the bathroom." I pointed to my hair. "Hair gel."

"Oh…" said Boomer as I darted around him and down the hall, bursting open the bathroom door and flinging open the cabinet, rummaging around for my hair gel. I seized the bottle and squirted a green blob into my hand, and I was smoothing it into my hair when Boomer poked his blonde head through the doorway.

"Why the rush?"

I finished fixing my hair and turned to Boomer, irritated, my arms crossed and the bottle of hair gel grasped in one hand.

"Duh…" I said, shaking the bottle in his face. "The dance…remember?"

Boomer glared at me and crossed his arms tightly. I bustled back over to the cabinet and put the gel away, slamming the doors shut and taking one last look at myself in the mirror before darting out of the bathroom. Boomer sullenly followed me as I ran back to the bedroom and flung open the closet, looking for my suit.

"Where is it…Where is it…Where is the crap…"

Boomer stalked over to the closet, stony faced, and pointed. And there was my suit. I snatched its hanger, ignoring Boomer, and pulled it off of the rack, holding it up to the light to inspect it.

"Shoot."

My hand had found a tear in the dress shirt, and the elastic in the dress pants was all stretched out and loose. I pulled the pants off of the hanger and slid them on over my normal pants, and they sagged dangerously because of the worn elastic, but they didn't fall down. That would have to do. As I slipped out of the dress pants, I hung them back on the hanger and turned, so I was facing Boomer, who was still staring sullenly at me with his arms crossed. I rolled my eyes and walked past him, hooking the hanger with my suit on the backboard of the bed.

"If you're gonna stand there you might as well help me." I said to Boomer, walking toward him. "Get me a pansy from the front yard, will ya?"

"Did you even ask her yet?" Boomer replied, still sourly. I froze like a naked mole rat in the Yukon.

"HELL'S BELLS!" I screeched, slapping my forehead in exasperation. Today's prize for the world's biggest idiot goes to…ME. "I need to ask her!! Oh shoot…"

I took off and ran towards the bedroom door when Boomer caught my arm.

"She's not here, bro. She's off practicing soccer at the park. I think."

"AUGH; why didn't you tell me!?" I squeaked.

"I just did."

"I meant earlier." I growled. He shrugged. I pulled my arm out of his grip.

"Thanks a lot." I spat sarcastically. Boomer suddenly looked hurt.

"No! No! I'll help you!" he cried, his brow creased. "Here…"

He ran and grabbed my suit off of the bed and shoved the hanger in my astonished hands. I swear that his mood swings were almost as weird as Bubbles'. "Put that on and I'll go get you a pansy."

He disappeared through the window, and I quickly stripped my clothes off, slipping on my suit, growling as I fumbled to fasten all the stupid little buttons on the dress shirt. I was pulling on my socks when Boomer zipped back into the window, holding a purple pansy in his hands. He seized my shoulder, pulled me to my feet and pinned the pansy to the front of my suit jacket. I growled at him as he stood back to appraise me.

"You need a tie." He said.

"What if I don't **want** a tie?"

But by the time I'd finished the sentence, Boomer had ran to the closet and returned like a golden retriever, holding a tie in his hand. I growled again.

"Shut up; I'm trying to help." Boomer said moodily as he wound the tie around my throat and pulled it tight with a yank. It was like a boa constrictor wrapping around my neck, and I could almost feel my windpipe snap in two. Have mercy. Blaugh…Stars started to blink before my eyes and I felt my knees hit the floor.

"Holy…."

And suddenly the pressure was gone. Choking, wheezing, and gasping, I massaged my neck, stiffly sitting upright. Boomer was kneeling in front of me, his face chalk white and petrified, the tie clutched in his hand.

"Omigosh…omigosh….**Are you ok**?!" Boomer spluttered, jumpy and frantic. I opened my mouth to shoot him a sarcastic comment when he seized my shoulders and rattled me back and forth. "Are you ok?! Are you ok?! Oh, if I hurt you…."

"Then I'd laugh." A new voice said.

What the heck?

Boomer and I froze and turned towards the voice, and there was Brick, floating in front of the window, a snooty smile on his face and his arms crossed.

"Did he really choke you with that tie?" Brick asked me skeptically, chuckling as he did. Smart aleck. I glared at him.

"No. It was a mad chimp with Bubbles' jump rope. Don't be stupid." I sarcastically shot back. Brick laughed and smoothly floated over, grabbing my arm and pulling me upright. He coolly took the tie from Boomer's astonished hands and carefully wound it around my neck, still snickering.

"Let me give you a tip for next time." Brick said as he knotted the tie into place. "Never let Boomer tie your tie."

"Hey!" Boomer caught the insult. Brick laughed and playfully punched Boomer's shoulder.

"Just kiddin', little bro."

He shot me a meaningful look and sauntered out of the room, still smiling, leaving me irritated and Boomer flustered, holding his shoulder. Boomer shot a sour look towards the door.

"I'm gonna go get a pansy."

He zipped out of the window and landed on the front lawn in a sapphire flash. And then something hit me. Not literally of course.

"**Boomer!!**" I yelled, running over to the window. "**You already got me a pansy!**"

Boomer froze, his hand outstretched and clutching the pansy plant. Realization washed over him and his hand dropped; he smoothed his hair to continue the movement, his face burning. I heard Brick laughing from downstairs as Boomer floated back in through the window, face stony, his eyes narrowed, his hands clenched into tight fists held stiffly by his sides, and his cheeks still flushed. Brick may be the leader and all, but he can sure as heck drive a guy nuts.

"Don't listen to him." I hissed, gesturing towards the door. "You know he likes to mess with ya. He hasn't stopped doing that since we were born."

"I know."

We were silent for a second and then I jabbed Boomer's shoulder. He turned towards me, confused.

"The dance, remember?"

"Oh yeah!" Boomer's eyes sparkled and his gloom instantly slid away. Yeah, he's my best bro, but I can't deny that there's something wrong with him. I guess that's no surprise, considering that our most recent dad is a demented, gender confused lobster. "Yeah, the dance. Ok; now you gotta take these and when she gets here…" Boomer took my prearranged bouquet of dove white, dew sprinkled roses out of their vase on the bedside table and shoved them into my hands. And suddenly we were interrupted by somebody knock-knock-knocking on the door. Knock knock knock. Could it be…?? My heart sprang into ultra hyper mode, and I could feel it thumping my whole body around. Bump ba bump ba bump ba bump. Except deafening and not orderly. **Bump bump ba bump ba BA bump bump bump** **BUMP ba BA!!! **Yeah, that's it.

Anyway, Boomer rammed me in the back with his arms and yelled:

"Go! It's Buttercup! Go! Go! Just go and ask her! And give her the roses!"

And don't kill the roses. And don't die of a heart attack. My heart was pounding so fast and crazy as I zipped down the stairs and to the front door, roses in hand, that I was sure that it would just snuff out. Like a dying motor. But it had better not, since I didn't want mourners carrying my **coffin** to the dance. I landed right in front of the door with a thump, and I was shaking like an earthquake. Don't freak out, don't freak out… **HELLLP!! I'm freakin' out!! **But before my brain totally shut down, I seized the doorknob and yanked the door open, squeezing my eyes shut.

"I…I…Buttercup, I…" I spluttered. Get a grip. Don't you **dare** freak out. I plucked up every particle of courage in my body, and thrusting my bundle of rose out in a dramatic pose and dropping to my knees, I cried:

"B-cup, **I love you**!! Will you go to the dance with me?!!"

Silence. *crickets chirp* What; was she too awestruck to answer or something? Curiously, I slowly opened my eyes, and my heart literally stopped. In one dull thud. There was an acne attacked, Malph's deliveryman standing in front of me, holding a bag with the groceries that Professor had ordered online yesterday, his mouth hanging open in a perfect dumbstruck O. And then the waistband of my dress pants, with that damn loose elastic, dropped down and settled on the floor. Spotlight on my boxers, out for the whole world to see. My jaw hit the floor like a boulder and time stopped. None of the muscles in my body would respond, and I could only gape up at the guy from where I was kneeling on the floor, in my bunny patterned boxers and presenting a bouquet of roses. The silence hung over us, like we were in a bad romantic comedy that somebody'd just paused. Hell's freaking bells. Oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god…. **OH MY GOD!! **In the same moment, he dropped the groceries and I dropped the roses, and we both shrieked like girls.

"!!!!!!!!"

I bolted into the house at a speed thousands of times faster than light, and the deliveryman ran away towards the street at the same speed. I slammed the door shut, panting, my face redder than a tomato, pulling up my pants with shaking hands. God, please shoot me now. And lo and behold, Brick was standing in front of me, laughing his butt off. My face dropped instantly. How about shooting me **now**?? I crossed my arms and glared at Brick until he finally stopped laughing enough to talk.

"Buttercup's… going…out..w…with Mitch!! She's already out with him now!! She's going with him to the dance!!"

The world stopped again. Did I just hear what I think I did?!! My jaw crashed open.


	2. Chapter 2

"MITCH?? MITCH **MITCHELSON**!!??" I roared, my bewilderment fading quickly into boiling rage. How DARE that stupid little… "I THOUGHT SHE WAS **OVER** THAT DISGUSTING, EVIL LITTLE PIG NOSED CHIMPANZEE!!"

"Guess not." Brick said serenely, his hand up in front of his mouth to muffle his chuckles. Rrrrrr….

"SHUT UP!!" I screeched, whirling on Brick like a lightning storm. "**IT'S NOT FUNNY!** WHO DIED AND MADE **YOU** KING?!"

"I've been king since we were born." Brick said calmly, leaning casually against the wall, his arms folded and an amused smile on his face. Out of the corner of my erupting rage, I heard footsteps pounding down the stairs as I flung myself at Brick, slamming my fist into his gut as hard as I could, my teeth gritted so tight that they hurt, my eyes narrowed into slits. I felt the corners of my mouth twist up into an evilly triumphant grin as Brick hit the floor like a boulder, his eyes wide, the breath knocked clean out of him. Thank god for the element of surprise.

"Stop! STOP!! **STOP!!**"

Boomer came zipping in like a blue sparkler, jumping up and down, his blonde hair bouncing, and his brow creased with anxiety.

"STOP IT! STOP FIGHTING!!"

Like that's gonna help. Over the years, Leader Boy has switched his target from Boomer to me. Not to mention his voice sounds smooth like a prince's, instead of like a scratchy record like it used to. Damn.

And then something smacked heavily into my chest, like a jet plane crashing into me or something. Before I knew it, I was sprawled across the floor like a dead dog, my head throbbing like hell, and trying to blink away the stars that were winking in front of my eyes. Initiate windshield wipers. Oh, God. Please stop the room; I'd like to get off. When my vision cleared, I found myself staring right up into Brick's mug; Brick's furious mug, his eyes blazing almost like burning hot coals in a fire, and his right arm clutching his gut, right where I'd punched him. At least **that** gave me some satisfaction.

"**What the hell do you think you're doing?!**" Brick spat at me, his fiery eyes narrowed, his face so close to mine that I was practically being shoved into the wall. It's weird that even when Brick is steaming mad like this, his voice still has that… _edge_ that sounds like the narrator in a luxury car commercial.

"I _**think**_ I'm lying on the floor like a big bag of jelly."

My sarcasm snapped Brick like a rubber band and his hard fist flew at me like a meteorite….only to bounce off of my force field like a fly off of a window. HA **HA**! Brick drew his hand away in pain and I couldn't stop the smirk that crept onto my face, my hands joined in front of me, the energy generating the force field pulsing out of them.

And that's when Boomer shoved his way in between me and Brick, his face hurt, and carefully pushed Brick away from me; Brick tensed up as soon as he felt it, and his eyes, that were squeezed shut in pain, snapped open. My force field flickered and disappeared. Brick opened his mouth angrily, but Boomer cut across him before he could get a word out.

"Stop, Brick." Boomer ordered calmly. It was as if Boomer's cool, sparkling ocean blue eyes doused the flames in Brick's blazing ones like a pail of water thrown on a sizzling campfire. Leader Boy's eyes softened and shone like a baby's for a second, and then they hardened up like ice and glared, right at Boomer.

"And who the hell do you think **you** are, bossin' me around??" Brick spat, little flecks of his saliva splattering Boomer's face. And his saliva is disgusting, let me tell you that. And I'm sure Blossom can too. Boomer stared at Brick, looking almost like he was five again. His eyes were even huger than usual in his pale face, and they shone, wet and gooey, like the big tearful eyes of a puppy in the rain. Boomer chewed on his lower lip, like a toddler, and he turned and swiftly walked away, his shining blonde hair floating. Me and Leader Boy both froze, staring after Boomer as he vanished up the stairs. After a moment of silence, Brick's head snapped back toward me, his eyes burning again and a furious haughty look on his face; I braced myself for the blow. But it didn't come. It wasn't like The Prince (Brick) to have mercy when I was farting around in the palm of his hand, like I was now; I looked up at him in surprise. He glared daggers at me, his lip curled, and then he made a disgusted noise and stalked away after Boomer, as if he was deciding that I wasn't worth his time. I stared after him until he disappeared from the room, and the air seemed to cool down a few degrees with his departure. Figures.

But just **where** was The Prince's royal ass going? I leapt up from the ground and scurried after Brick, trying to move as silently as I could. As I slunk up the stairs and up to the upper floor, I caught a glance of Brick's long raggedy flaming ponytail, swishing after him as he entered our bedroom; I smirked, crept up to the doorway and silently peered in. Brick was at the window; staring outside. It was the very same window I'd been staring out of. His back was to me, so I didn't know what his face looked like, but I wondered what he was thinking. He was so freakin hard to read, like he was raised on some alien planet or something. I never really knew what he was feeling anyway. Now that I think of it, he was almost as weird as Boomer. Whatever; my whole family is weird.

I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts that I almost fell over with surprise when Brick turned around and walked over to our dresser; he picked something up off of it and turned it over in his hands. It was Blossom's hair clip; that one that she wore when she was little, and she still didn't let anybody touch. I made a mental note to report Brick to her when she got home from her shopping spree at the mall. But then something else surprised me even more than Brick's movement from the window. I saw the reflection of his face in the heart shaped mirror on the dresser. F-ing hell's bells!! TEARS!!? **Leader Boy** was CRYING! This time I didn't **almost** fall over; I **did** fall over. Ka-**THUMP**! Smack onto the ground. Brick whirled around in a panic, Blossom's clip slipping out of his hand and onto the floor, his expression tearful and nothing short of petrified. But it melted away as soon as he saw me, sprawled on the ground. And it melted right back into fury.

"WHAT ARE YOU **DOING**?!!" he screeched, his flushed cheeks shining with tears that he was quickly and desperately wiping away.

"Uh….s-sitting on the floor??"

"WHY WERE YOU SPYING ON ME!??"

"Why did you ask me w-what I was doing if you already kn-"

"**WHY WERE YOU SPYING ON ME?!!!**" Beneath his ferocity, I could hear hysteria.

"Uh…I wasn't sp-spying…I was… ummm…. Walking down the hall and I tripped." I felt like smacking myself in the face as punishment for that pathetic white lie. And it was pretty obvious that Brick didn't believe it. Still red in the face, he lunged at me, seizing the front of my shirt in both hands and shoving his face in mine.

"**Stay out of my life, you filthy, psychotic parasite**." He hissed, his scarlet eyes glowing menacingly and scaring the freaking heck out of me. His piece said, he flung me out into the hall and vanished in a flash of red. I was too stunned even to react to the pain as I sailed over the railing and plummeted down to the first floor of the house, smashing down onto the living room carpet like an asteroid. I couldn't even remember the last time when he was **that** mad, which was hard to believe, because he was mad all the time. And he called me a parasite. A **filthy psychotic** parasite. My heart stuck in my throat like a big fat Twinkie. I won't deny that I'm psychotic, but…

"Butch?"

I looked up. Boomer was standing over me, looking truly concerned, his eyes sparkly and his expression sympathetic. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fine." I said curtly, shuffling upright, keeping my eyes down. We stood there in silence for a moment.

"He's really mad at you, isn't he?"

I looked at my blonde brother in surprise. He was so dumb, but he was so…smart!

"He's mad at God knows what." I said. Boomer smiled weakly.

"He probably thinks that you're going to ruin the dance. He's taking Blossom, remember?"

I snorted. How could I forget?

We stood in silence for a few more moments. Boomer's smile grew and he crossed his arms. But it wasn't a cool, smug smile like The Prince's. It was as sunny as a warm spring day. Like today.

"What are you plotting?" I asked suspiciously.

"Do you want me to come with you?" he asked, still smiling.

"Come with me where?" I knew what he was talking about, but I asked anyway.

"To the dance."

"I'm not going to the dance. Cuppo's goin' with that Mitchelson chimp, and I'd rather die than go alone. And aren't you going with Bubbles?"

He shook his head, his hair sparkling.

"I already asked her, and she said she didn't want to."

"She turned **you** down??" I asked disbelievingly. "I thought she was nuts about you!"

"She hates school dances."

I stood there in shocked silence for a few seconds; this was news to me.

"Wha??"

"She wants to take Octi with her, but at the last dance, some kid made fun of her."

I stood there with my mouth open, and Boomer laughed.

"So do you want me to come with you to the dance?"

I smiled evilly.

"Yessss….And you probably already know what I have planned, right?"

Boomer nodded, narrowing his eyes maliciously.

"**Gatecrash**." He said dramatically. I nodded slowly.

"You got it. Gatecrash **EXTREME**." Oh, boy, I could already feel the bubble of victory, swelling up inside of me.

"You know that Brick's gonna be really **really** mad if you ruin the dance, right?" Boomer asked, suddenly concerned. I imagined Brick's response; it was bloody and violent and rated R, and included a chainsaw, cannibalism, various forms of TNT, and an axe. My face fell slightly.*gulp*

"I…I k-know he's gonna be mad." I stuttered.

"Do you really still want to gatecrash?"

I thought for a moment. I shivered as I pictured The Prince beating the heck out of me after his perfect date with Blossom was ruined. But the bubble of triumph swelled even bigger inside my chest, and I felt my spirits soar. With the aid of a turbo jet engine, of course. When sparkly images of my revenge over Mitch came sprouting into my head, my grin spread over my face. It looked so evil that I almost laughed. Boomer saw my face and guessed my decision.

"Brick's gonna be really **really** _**REALLY**_ mad…" he said quietly, looking almost nervous.

"Let him get mad." I said confidently, through clenched teeth. "We're gatecrashing **tonight**."

And we slapped hands.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been harder to sneak out than we'd thought. I guess I shoulda planned our escape better, but heck, I'm not one to plan. Leave that stuff to Blossom.

In my head, I imagined me and the Boomstah slipping into an awesome, sleek, black getaway car (dressed in awesome black suits and awesome shades) and awesomely roaring away, revving the engine like crazy, and going so freaking fast that sparks flew off of our tires and singed the night air. Look out, Pokey Oaks Middle School, here comes trouble. **Huzzah**!

But as I stood in the dark closet (we needed somewhere private and Brick was still skulking in the bedroom) explaining it all to Boomer with enthusiasm, trying to portray all of the awesomeness 100%, he shattered my dream with a simple statement.

"But, Butch, we can't drive!"

My face fell spectacularly. I can't believe that you have to wait until you're **15** just to get a freakin **permit**. Only two more freakin** years**…*arrrrrgh* But Boomer was right. And where the heck would we ever get a getaway car from anyway?? I can't imagine the awesomeness being the same if we took Professor's boxy, white car, and he'd probably notice it was gone. And have a heart attack.

Boomer and I stood there in the dark in silence, trying to think of some way to get away, and hurting our brains in the process. We couldn't just fly out of the window; everybody would notice us leaving. Not to mention they'd see us up in the sky. Sometimes I despise those stupid streaks we make when we fly. Could we run there? Not likely. I don't want to spend the rest of my life fixing those huge ditches we make when we our powers to run on the ground. Having superpowers has its drawbacks. And anyway, the Prof would notice we were gone and probably go berserk and send the FBI after us…Hmm…

"**I know!!**" Boomer suddenly cried out, his face lighting up like a light bulb.

"What?" I asked, after restarting my heart.

"We can make some **excuse **to get out of the house! That way, Prof wouldn't worry!"

"Like **what**…?? 'Hey, Prof, I lost my pet flying monkey and I'm going out to catch him. And yeah, I'm wearing a tux just because I feel like it.'"

"No…We can say that we want to go over to….uh…Harry Pitt's house to um...study!"

I snorted.

"How on earth would Professor fall for **that**?? Harry Pitt probably doesn't even know what studying **is**."

Boomer was stung by my comment, and he looked at me disdainfully out from under his shaggy blonde hair.

"Well…**You **think of something better then!" Boomer whined, clearly getting irritated. I mentally went through my ideas:

Shove Prof in his time portal thing and transport him to the 12th century.

Use the flying monkey excuse.

Attack Brick with a chainsaw, and make our getaway when Prof goes up to investigate.

Uhh….I'm hungry….

Stupid Mitch.

Yeah. I think I'm going to go with Boomer's idea. I'll just perfect the lie.

"Ok…Let's go with your idea then." I said quickly. "Let's just change it up a bit. How about we're going to study with uh… Julie Bean?? Naw… Maybe that huge girl with the glasses?? Definitely not…"

"How about Pablo! You know, that really smart guy in my 3rd period?"

"That guy that you cheated from?? Yeah…that's somethin'…."

More silence.

"But how are we going to **ruin** the dance?" Boomer asked worriedly, looking right at me. I really didn't want to plan out every little detail; it was already starting to bug me.

"We'll figure it out when we get there; we can just bring a backpack of random supplies or something and stir something up."

And so, we had a plot. Cue evil laugh. BWAHAHAHAAH!!******

Waiting all the way until dance time was completely nerve wracking. Who decided to start it at **7:00** anyway?? *aaaarrrrgh* Brick kept on giving me death looks and I could swear that he was looking right into my head with those fiery eyes. I imagined what would happen if Brick found out our plans and desperately tried to look innocent by whistling Christmas songs and staring off calmly into the distance. Boomer sat around reading some of my comic books that he had stolen from my private stash, looking very guilty. Not because of his comic theft, of course. If I hadn't been so stressed out already, I woulda killed him for that. All I was concentrating on was 'Don't make eye contact with Brick… Don't make eye contact with Brick… Don't make eye contact with Brick… Don't make eye contact with Brick… Etc…'

Brick actually looked kinda freaked out too, as he watched Blossom fix herself up in the bathroom (she'd come back from the mall right before dinner). He kept on fussing with his hair, frizzing it up, and absently playing with the collar on his garnet red tux. That got me stuck on what me and Boomer were going to wear on our little escapade. I didn't know about Boomstah, but I'd rather die than go in that rotten stupid tux of mine. Reasons should be obvious. And plus, how could we say that we were going to study with tuxedos on?? The Prof wasn't stupid. We had to wear something cool, something sleek, something awesome and gatecrashy… Hmmm….

After dinner, which consisted of previously frozen fish sticks that The Prof had burnt in the oven, Boomer and I hurried up into the bedroom before Brick decided to get back to his skulking, so we could get dressed for the occasion. We thought long and hard, until our brains hurt, and until Brick started pounding on the door, demanding that we hurry the heck up if we still wanted to be alive tomorrow. So Boomer ended up in his big baggy black sweater and dark jeans, and I tugged on a pair of loose, very cool camouflage pants (fastened very tightly with a belt for safety) and a thin, white sleeveless thing with a big black skull on it. Boomer snatched up his school backpack, which he had filled with random junk (our dance ruining supplies) and slung it over his shoulder; it added perfectly to our 'we're going to study with Pablo' illusion. Everything fit into the scheme so jump-for-joy wonderfully. This was going to be freaking awesome. But I guess we should have tried to control our proud swaggering out of the room, because The Prince looked a bit suspicious. And the last thing we wanted was Brick stalking us around. *shudder* I hoped with all my heart that he would leave us alone.

But he remained staring at us suspiciously through the back window of Prof's car as it pulled out of the driveway with a screech and sped off in the direction of Pokey Oaks Middle School, which was like 3 miles away from our house. I almost melted into a puddle like the Wicked Witch because he kept his gaze maliciously locked on mine until the car vanished around the far corner of the street, and even then, I could feel his stare on me. Probably the telescopic vision. I really didn't think that was good karmatically, and judging by Boomer's face, he didn't think so either. We looked at each other and shuffled back into the house, where Bubbles was, lounging comfortably on the living room couch, listening to her IPod and scribbling on some stupid grammar worksheets, bobbing her head to the music and smiling contentedly. As I passed by her on my way to the kitchen, I noticed that she had spelled all the words wrong again, but because I am such a kind hearted individual, I kept my mouth shut. Besides, I didn't want to trigger yet another one of her famous emotional explosions.

After stuffing my face with cookies to my heart's content, I swaggered out of the kitchen with my mouth crammed full, crumbs dribbling down my chin as I chomped away. I swear I am addicted to sugar, and I just can't stop eating. As I came back into the living room, Boomer, who was sitting on the couch next to Bubbles and pointing out her errors in the nicest way possible, shot me a disapproving glance. I swallowed the huge mouthful with some difficulty and glared back at him, in a teasing way of course. I plopped down on the couch on the right side of Boomstah, grabbed the remote, and switched the TV on, wiping all traces of crumbs from my face, knowing that Professor would kill me if he found out. I amused myself with laughing my ass off at Disney Channel's horridness until the front doorknob squeaked and in came the Prof, looking fairly sane. I guessed that Brick and Blossom hadn't caused him that much trouble…yet.

Prof shut the door behind him and Boomer and I caught his gaze hopefully. He noticed and turned toward us, crossing his arms. We smiled as innocently as possible, trying to give him a good impression.

"Are you boys asking me something?" Prof finally said suspiciously, breaking the awkward silence.

"Uhhh…." Boomer said, catching a sudden case of shyness. So I spoke up to save his butt.

"We wanna ask ya if we can go to Pablo's house tonight, Prof. We need to study and stuff."

Boomer nodded so fast that his hair flopped around wildly. Prof raised an eyebrow skeptically, and I swallowed hard. This had better work, or we were sunk.

"Since when do you boys study?"

"Since now." I answered quickly. "There's a… um…pop quiz in algebra tomorrow and we need to get ready."

"And how did you two know about this pop quiz?"

Boomer and I looked at each other desperately. I snapped out of it first, of course.

"Pablo told us about it. I don't know how he found out."

Prof looked doubtingly at me, and if I woulda had fingers, I would have crossed them. Real tight.

"So can we go pleeeeeaase??" Boomer pleaded, blinking innocently. He looked so stupid that I was tempted to slap him, but I controlled myself. Prof still stared at us for another long minute.

"Oh, all right." He finally said, sighing. Our faces instantly brightened and I felt the heavy weight flying off of my chest and into the stratosphere. Unable to fully constrain our glee, we jumped up off of the couch and slapped hands.

"Yeeeesssss!!"

We realized our mistake a little too late; our faces froze mid-cheer and we both looked at Professor in horror. Both of his eyebrows were raised now.

"If you're going to act so excited about studying, I might just have to consider changing my mind."

Boomer chuckled innocently, but I could tell that the Prof was still suspicious.

"We really **really** want to see Pablo." he explained. I nodded vigorously.

"Pablo's a good guy; a good bud of mine." I added. Boomer and I jumped up off of the couch and scampered for the door. "See ya later, Prof!"

"Now wait a minute!" the Prof exclaimed just as we were about to step through the doorway. Uh oh. We both nervously turned around to face Professor.

"Yeah?" I asked weakly.

"Are you two **walking **all the way there?"

"Oh, yeah!" I replied, relief flooding through me like sunlight. "We need the exercise. And plus, you just drove Leader Boy and Red to the dance; that was probably hard enough."

Prof crossed his arms and shook his head, chuckling.

"You two be careful."

"We will!" we called, and we turned and dashed out the front door and into the twilight. Of course we weren't planning to be careful. *heh heh heh heh*

After a few minutes of running down the sidewalk toward Pokey Oaks Middle School, we started to lose some of our good feelings. Boomer's happy smile faded into a half blank, half depressed expression. I felt annoyance flowing through me, and I started glaring at nothing in particular.

"Are we really gonna **walk** all the way there, Butch?" Boomer whined, stomping his feet as we marched along on the hard concrete, his hair bouncing. "It's three miles away! Why can't we use our powers??"

"Because **Brick**, that's why!" I spat at him. Don't blame me, I was already really freakin annoyed. "The Prince is suspicious, and I swear he can **sense** me when I lurk around with my powers."

Creepy, huh? But it's true. Leader Boy always catches me whenever I sneak out on a cookie smuggling escapade. Dangit.

Boomer understood and he didn't argue back (he'd been foiled by Brick before) and we walked in silence for a bit. I listened to the sound of my footsteps on the sidewalk, trying to let my irritation simmer down a bit. Night was closing in on us and the stars started to pop out like little diamonds or little winking cat eyes. There was a slight, nice breeze that ruffled my hair and I occupied myself by watching the leaves of the trees along the sidewalk and in people's yards quake and rustle. But we'd barely been walking 10 minutes when I realized that this was going to take forever.

I stopped abruptly in the middle of the sidewalk so that Boomer bumped into my back from behind; I clenched up my fists and pressed them hard against my forehead, groaning in exasperation.

"**Arrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrgh!!!** By the time we **get **there the freaking dance will be **over**!"

Boomer circled in front of me and stared at me for a bit, and then he made puppy dog eyes at me. I was not amused.

"Shut up! No powers!!" I screeched, swiping at his face. Too bad he ducked out of the way.

"But Butch, we're **never** gonna get there!"

I growled and punched at the air, so I wouldn't knock Boomer's block off. But he was right. Curse Brick. If wasn't for his supernatural senses, we could just fly over to the dance without him noticing. Shoot. I hopelessly remembered my fantasy with the getaway car, and my heart sunk even lower. Oh, **why** **can't I drive**?? Arrrrrrrrrrrgh….

My eyes, that had been squeezed shut in frustration, popped open because I had started seeing fireworks, and then I saw it. My jaw dropped down so far that it probably clunked on the sidewalk. Right in front of us, parked by the curb under a flickering streetlight, was the car of my dreams. It was sleek and black, just like that car in my getaway fantasy, and it shone more brilliantly than any car I'd ever seen. It looked like it was made of glass, it was so slick. There was nothing I could do but stare at it, unmoving, my mouth open. Until I felt a dribble of saliva running down my chin.

Boomer had noticed my infatuation by now (you think?) and he looked at me like I was insane. Well, I'm already insane, so maybe that's not the best comparison. Heh heh heh…

"Butch?"

He waved his hand in front of my face, but I didn't move. I didn't even blink.

"Butch…..**Butch**! **Butch, listen**!"

I deftly turned my head towards him.

"Huh?"

"We can't drive that car! It's not ours!"

"It could be." A voice said. I almost jumped out of my skin; it had broken my trance. Boomer and I turned, and right behind us, a humongous dude was standing, leaning casually against the flickering streetlight. And I mean he was **humongous**. He seemed about two feet taller than me; I swear. He looked like a punk gangster, and he had black hair in a Mohawk as shiny as the car. He bulged with muscle (probably a weight lifter) and his pale skin was covered with tattoos. Millions of them.

"What do you mean; the car could be ours?" I asked him immediately. I couldn't help myself.

"I'm sellin' it." The guy said pointing at the car. I noticed a 'for sale' sign, barely visible through the darkly tinted windows.

"How much?"

I fingered the pocket of my baggy camo pants and suddenly felt stupid. I had a crinkled, taped together (Boomer's fault) five dollar bill in there; that was all.

"A lot more than guys like you have on ya right now, I bet." The guy replied, smiling in amusement. I felt like punching him. "But I am offering rentals. Cheap rentals."

Now I felt like hugging him. (not really)

"Really??; how cheap?" I tried not to sound so desperate, but I failed pathetically.

"10 bucks for one night."

My heart nearly flew out of my throat. My dream had come true. I was only 5 dollars away.

"Boomer, do ya have 5 dollars??" I nearly screamed at him. Boomer slowly drew his hand into the pocket of his baggy sweatshirt and pulled out **two** fives, staring blankly at me the whole time. I snatched both of them out of his hands and presented them to the gangster guy. His amused smile grew even bigger.

"You dudes can really drive it?"

"**Yeah!**" I protested. "Here's the 10 bucks! Gimme the damn key!"

"Ok…" the guy said, shaking his head as he dug around his pocket and tossed the keys to me. "But I want it back by midnight without a scratch, or you're payin' for anything you do to it."

"Yeah, yeah…" I said blindly, running over to the car, unlocking the door, and pulling it open; my heart fluttered when my skin touched the glossy surface. It was too perfect to be true. I slid into the driver's chair (the chair was velvet) and motioned frantically for Boomer to get in, my mouth glowing with a euphoric smile. Boomer slipped into the passenger seat, (the car was a two seater) his brow shining with sweat, his eyes huge, and his expression terrified.

"Butch, whatter you **doing**??!" he exclaimed, his voice all high and panicky. "**You don't know** **how ta drive this thing!!** You're **13**!! What if we get **caught**?? What if we **crash**??What…?!!"

I barely heard a word he said. I was too busy turning the key in the ignition, the engine roaring to life and then purring awesomely; my face lit up with a maniacal, ecstatic grin. True, I had never driven a car before. True, I was 13. True, I had no license. **But who cares?!!** I mean, how hard could it be?! I glanced at the pedals by my feet, took at guess at which one was the gas, and jammed it.


	4. Chapter 4

Man, did that car go waaaaaay faster than I thought it would. But heck, at least I found the gas pedal. And on the first try too. That's pretty dang impressive if I do say so myself.

Anyway, I jammed my foot on the gas pedal and the car blasted forward at about 90 miles per hour, the tires screeching so loud that it probably woke the whole neighborhood. Adrenalin rushed through my veins and I started laughing maniacally, and Boomer started screaming. Really high pitched girlie screams that almost ruptured my eardrums. Ouch.

But I was having so much fun that I didn't even bother to tell him to shut the heck up. I gripped the steering wheel in my hands and I jerked us around corners and around bends and down hills, staying at 90 mph. I felt so light, so free, so on top of the world. Ahhhhh…. FASTER!! *maniacal laughter* The speedometer climbed past 100. It was a wonder that Boomer still hadn't passed out yet; he had been screaming nonstop since we first took off. I wasn't even paying attention to where we were going; I just roared onto crosstreets as they came…until it hit me that I had no idea where we were or how to get to the school from where we were. Shoot. So I decided to stop the car so I could make sure we weren't in Canada; I took a guess at which pedal was the brake and slammed my foot down on it. I was lucky again.

The car skidded wildly with squealing tires, the smell of burning rubber erupting in the air. As impossible as it seemed, the volume of Boomer's screaming turned up about 10 notches. My heart lurched; for a second I thought the car was going to overturn and start rolling around like in one of those crashes on TV. If it had been an Escalade, I'm sure it would've. But the car was a low-to -the -ground sleek cruiser thing, so it didn't.

We came squealing to a jerking halt right in the middle of the street. Boomer was paralyzed, his eyes huge, his face pale and sweaty, his teeth clenched, sitting straight up, and his hands balled in bone crushing fists. I breathed heavily and stared out the windshield at the residential street in front of us, the adrenalin still coursing through my veins.(and the street didn't look familiar at all)The only thing breaking the tense silence was our raspy breathing and the steady rumble of the idling engine.

Then a few screams burst through the air and the lights in the windows of the houses on either side of us suddenly snapped on; the people must have heard our dramatic halt and thought that some idiot had crashed and killed somebody. Boomer and I looked at each other in panic. Only when people throwing on bathrobes in a panic started bursting out of the front doors, did Boomer's voice come back.

"GO!! BUTCH, GO GO **GO**!!" he shrieked, overwhelmed with terror. Without thinking at all, I slammed my foot on the gas and we squealed off of that street, leaving all the people standing on their front yards in their bathrobes, stunned and confused.

The sudden momentum of the quick escape threw both me and Boomer back in our seats as the speedometer inched back over 90 mph.

"DON'T YOU HAVE A GEAR BETWEEN 0 AND 100!!??" Boomer yelled over the roar of the engine.

"NO!" I hollered back. We both screamed as I turned a corner a bit too sharp; we thumped up the curb and back down again, and we totaled the edge of somebody's lawn in the process.

"WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!!" Boomer screeched. "YOU'RE GONNA **KILL **SOMETHING!"

"THEN QUIT DISTRACTING ME, BARF BAG!!"

That shut him up good, and I was glad because he **was** distracting me. But all those relieved feelings faded away when I saw where the car was headed. We had just left the residential area. Up in front of us was…Main Street. **The **number one busiest street in Townsville. Always jammed with cars, all the time; and now was no exception. Keep in mind that I didn't know how to drive this car at any speed between 0 and 90 mph. It was either on full speed, or nothing. I imaged driving like that on a crowded street and I couldn't hold back what came next. My mouth burst open and a bone rattling cry split the air; it took me a second to realize that it was **me** screaming.

"BOOOOOOOOOOOMER!! I'M GONNA KILL SOMETHING!!"

My mind was frozen with panic and Boomer seemed to sense that. He struggled over to me, reached over my shoulder, and seized the steering wheel, yanking it away from the direction of Main Street. Brilliant, Holmes. I would have actually said that to him if I hadn't been so freaked out. The car veered violently off course…and careened right for a Shell station on the corner. That's when Boomer lost **his** mind. My stupid brain circled with horror, and the next thing I knew, I was hurtling myself out of the driver's window, trying to get between the car and the station before everybody got blown to kingdom come. I zipped right in front of the car and threw myself forward, bracing my body against the front bumper in desperation. But that only made things worse. The momentum caused the whole car to flip upside down, the trunk end of it hurtling into the air and the hood slipping downward; Boomer fell out of his chair and thudded against the roof of the driver's compartment. He was shrieking so loud that it could be heard perfectly over the screech of the tires, the screams of the people fleeing the Shell station, and the rumble of traffic on Main Street. My heart pounding like a bass drum, I threw my arms out and braced my hands against the roof of the car, which was plummeting down towards the asphalt road below. For a second I stood there like a moron, holding the car up, but then I quickly flipped it over and set it right side up on the ground; Boomer fell off of the roof and landed with a thud on the driver's seat.

I just stood there, my eyes huge in my face. The people that had fled the Shell station were all staring at me like I was a terrorist, and I suddenly realized that I had forgotten to breathe. While I choked and gasped, Boomer scrambled out of the car and dashed over to me, grasping and shaking my shoulders.

"Omigod omigod **omigod**!! Dude, are you ok?!!!" he squealed, his eyes nearly popping out of their sockets.

I nodded quickly, still gasping. My muscles didn't want to move.

"Are…*cough* y..**you**..*gasp* ok?"

Boomer nodded, his bangs flopping over his sweaty forehead. We stood like that for a few moments, our minds still paralyzed over what had just happened. The street was silent. The traffic had stopped and everyone was staring at us. A distant siren started wailing. Dang, some idiot must have called the paramedics. Then something hit me like Brick's dirty fist. (not literally)**The car.**

Boomer must have had the same thought, because a horrified, helpless look washed over his face and he swiveled around to look at the car at the same time I did. But bless Jesus, the car was still intact, still whole, and still flawless. It sat there on the asphalt in all of its glory; you could almost hear the corny, swelling, triumphant orchestra music. It was like a single ray of sunlight was shining on that thing, it shone so nice. Now, **that** was a true miracle.

Well, seeing that gleaming car revived me like heck; I grabbed Boomer's arm and dashed over to the car, stars in my eyes.

"Hey; what..??"

"Boomer, shut up!" I hissed. "We need to get outta here before the freaking cops get here; somebody's gonna notice that we don't have licenses."

I grabbed the car, swiftly lifted it onto my shoulders, and blasted up into the air, the cool, night air whipping my hair and the skyscrapers of downtown sparkling. Boomer soared alongside me, his face annoyed and his shiny blonde hair flopping around.

"I thought we weren't going to use our powers!"

"Change of plans." I spat. "Or do **you** want to try and drive this thing all the way to school? We're gonna ruin it and owe that guy a billion freaking dollars."

Boomer didn't say anything; he looked nervously toward the ground that was twinkling far below us.

"But Brick…"

"Screw Brick. We're flying. Do ya see the school anywhere?"

Boomer's sapphire eyes scanned the ground below.

"I think that might be it…"

He pointed down towards a spot just a bit off to our left. I zoomed in on it with the telescopic vision and recognized the crappy basketball courts, the ugly murals, and the field of dead grass in the back. Plus, the parking lot in front was swarmed with cars coming in and out and chatty people in formal clothes.

"That's it. We're going down. C'mon."

We swept down through the air, slowly descending, like a pair of eagles, our streaks glowing in the night. We quietly hovered down to the parking lot and I carefully set the car down in an empty space. Then I gave Boomer a secret agent look and we silently zipped over to the roof of the MPR, the multipurpose room, where the dance was being held. We peered down over the edge of the roof like spies, watching the people crowding into the MPR. Most of the dudes wore tuxes and they laughed coolly with packs of giggly girls in elaborate dresses drooping with hideous lace and ruffles. One girl had these enormous stilettos on and her dress looked like a wedding cake. Where did she think she was going, the freaking prom? Me and the Boomstah snickered at her as she hobbled along with those dangerous heels; her boyfriend had her firmly by the arm, but his knuckles were white and he looked terrified that she would plummet to her death if he let go. Wow. Way to go, Stiletto Girl.

"Ya know; I don't think we're dressed up enough." Boomer said quietly, fiddling with the collar of his navy blue hooded sweatshirt.

"Who cares? We're not going to the freaking dance, we're just ruinin' it. Lemme see the backpack."

"But don't we hafta go **in** the dance to ruin it?"

"Just gimme the backpack."

Scowling, Boomer shrugged off the straps and handed it to me; I unzipped it and tore through it greedily. When I pulled out the first thing, I knew I had made a mistake letting Boomer pack. It was a Barbie doll, all dressed up in a horrible, sparkling pink mermaid tail.

"What the shi..why the heck didja bring this crap?!"

Boomer just sat there, trailing the movements of my hands with his eyes.

I dropped the Barbie and pulled out something else; Professor's horrid potato peeler that said 'kiss the chef' on the handle. My horror grew with every piece of useless junk that I yanked from the backpack; a bottle of ketchup, a broken battery charger, a chipped, faux pearl necklace, a thong, (where the crap did he get **that**?!) a Yankees baseball cap, Bubbles' jump rope, purple plastic jacks…

Oh my freaking god.

"**Why the f-ing hell did you pack this CRAP?!!**"

I was practically hysterical, but Boomer just shrugged.

"You said to pack random stuff."

"I meant stuff that could actually be **useful**!! **Not** Barbies, thongs, and jacks!!"

"Sorry."

I glared at him and threw the crap down, groaning in frustration.

"We are sooo royally screwed…" I hissed. "I mean, what the crap can we do with this junk; we might as well go freaking home right now."

I yanked a glittery snowglobe out of the backpack and kicked off of the MPR; it crashed open on the sidewalk below, almost hitting a girl in a tutu. The girl screamed and ran into the MPR, yelling some crap about ghosts. And that's when I got an idea. An evil idea. A devilish grin crossed my face. I stuck my hand in the backpack and pulled out a handful of purple jacks. They had pointed tips that could easily poke somebody's eye out; perfect. Then I snatched up the Barbie and took her ponytail holder out of her hair, giving it a few test stretches. It could stretch nearly as good as a rubber band.

"Butch, what are you…?"

Ignoring him, I scrambled over to the edge of the roof and slid over onto the ledge of a window that looked right into the MPR; it was open. Boomer followed me to the ledge, muttering the whole way. I searched the crowd until I spotted Mitch and Buttercup; they were drinking punch at one of the tables. My heart seized up and I felt like strangling that stupid idiot on the spot; he was wearing a plain tux and he was pouring Buttercup's punch for her. She smiled and took it; oh, god, she looked so pretty in her sleek black dress. Die, Mitch….I started fantasizing chopping his head up with an ax when I remembered my idea; I stretched out the ponytail holder like a rubber band and loaded it with a jack, aiming it at Mitch's nose.

Here's to Buttercup.

And I let it go.


	5. Chapter 5

A piercing scream of pain erupted over the crappy pop music flowing from the big speakers. My heart stopped in my throat and I froze, my arms still poised in shooting position with the Barbie hair band. Just about everyone in the room stopped what they were doing and stared blankly at the source of the disturbance, like zombies. Oh. My. God. I'd hit somebody all right, right between the eyes. But, no, it wasn't Mitch. My eyes expanded, my body went limp with horror, and my mouth dropped open. For a few moments I could only blink stupidly.

"**Get down**!" I hissed, suddenly coming back to my senses; I grabbed Boomer by the arm and pulled him down flat on the window ledge, sinking down myself. My breath came fast and sweat broke out on my forehead.

"What..?" he started to ask.

"Brick. I hit Brick." I replied in terror, my body shaking. Horror washed over Boomer's face and I slapped my hand over his mouth before he could scream. "**Shuddup**!"

With my x-ray vision, I peered through the wall and scanned the crowd, searching it for Brick. I spotted him in the far corner of the MPR with Blossom, who was standing a few feet from him with a terrified expression on her face, her hands up to her mouth. Brick was stumbling around, groaning in pain and clawing at his face with both hands; wincing, he caught hold of the jack and pulled it out from where it had stuck him. He looked at it in his hand, his eyes smoldering with immeasurable rage, and then he threw a death look towards the window, only a few inches away from where we were crouching. My breath caught in my throat and I felt Boomer tense up. Brick scanned the window area with his eyes of doom, until he finally turned back toward Blossom, still seriously pissed. He started talking to her, probably reassuring her that some alien hadn't just shot him, and she started nodding really fast, the rainbow dancing lights from the disco ball overhead glinting off of the sparkles on her ruffled pink dress. I let out my breath and started to straighten up; Boomer shoved my hand off of his mouth.

"Why'd you have to….?"

Brick and Blossom suddenly whirled towards the window, fantasies of ax murdering the mysterious jack shooter (me) obviously exploding in their heads. Their eyes were blazing with pissed-offness; I dove back down to the sill, dragging Boomer with me, who shut up immediately. A few eons later they looked away, and I silently thanked the gods of gatecrashing for saving our butts from the wrath of evil.

Boomer and I lay there for a few moments, frozen on the sill together, still curled up and staring at each other in horror. I could not believe what had just happened and by the look on Boomer's face, he couldn't believe it either. But we were safe. That thought echoed in my mind while I slowly shifted upright into a sitting position, my eyes fixed on Brick in the crowd far below. We were safe; Brick hadn't caught us (at least not yet) and we hadn't totaled the car. Good signs, those are good signs…I told myself.

"Butch…" Boomer squeaked, his voice faint. "Are we…?"

"No we're not busted. Brick didn't see us; thank god… So yeah, we can get on with the good stuff, but I am definitely not doing something that stupid again…We're planning it better next time. Just hand me the stupid backpack so I can try to come up with something to do with the crap you brought…"

Boomer just stared at the wall of the MPR, the moon shining in his huge eyes, his face pasty and white and horrified.

"What..? Dude; what's up? Just give me the rotten backpack!"

Boomer turned and stared at me, his eyes still giant.

"I don't…" His mouth trembled." …I don't think we should do this anymore."

My mouth fell open; I was utterly appalled.

"What the heck, Boomer!" I cried, trying to keep my voice down. "We're not giving up now! There is NO WAY I'm going to let that stupid Mitch get away with this!"

"But. We. Are. Going. To. Get. CAUGHT!" Boomer hissed, anger igniting in his eyes as he leaned closer to me.

"No we're not! Get out of your stupid head; it's all gone great so far and if we keep it up, we'll be fine!"

Boomer crossed his arms and tutted indignantly at me.

"Gone **great**?"

"Well…. **yeah**! Brick hasn't caught us and our car is still in one piece! Isn't that good?"

"Not **great**."

"Whatever. Just shut up before somebody hears us. We sound like an old married couple. Gimme that backpack; it's time to kick Mitch's stupid shorts off…"

Boomer sullenly shoved the pack into my hands, his eyes narrowed. In a rush of childish stupidity, I stuck out my tongue at him before zipping open the backpack and rooting through it, looking for something that could possibly be useful. Not much hope on that front. After all, all I had was the mermaid Barbie (now without the hairband), the Prof's potato peeler, a bottle of ketchup, a broken faux pearl necklace, a broken battery charger, a **thong** (a lacy, frilly, naughty one), a Yankees baseball cap, Bubbles' jump rope, and the rest of the purple jacks. Useful stuff for a gatecrash operation. I will **kill** Boomer for this humiliation. And once I find out where he got that thong, I'll dig him out of his coffin and kill him again.

While Boomer sulked, I spun the pearl necklace on my hand and watched Mitch dance with Buttercup, wishing a jet would randomly fall on his head. They were slow dancing, super close together, Mitch's arms around her waist and hers around his neck; I took a closer look at Buttercup's face and saw (to my immediate disgust) that she looked pretty content. Although she grimaced when a Jonas brothers song came on and a bunch of girls squealed; ha ha. But still, the situation looked pretty dang hopeless. In no time at all, her and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named (Mitch freaking Mitchelson) would probably be all over each other in the corner. My stomach flipped at that thought and my grip tightened on the necklace; it snapped and plastic pearls flew everywhere. I had to do something. Anything. Just to get her away from the creep.

I snatched up another jack at tossed it at Mitch in desperation, but of course it hit Stiletto girl (with the wedding cake dress) in the arm. She shrieked so loud that the multicolored ceiling lights almost shattered, and she lost her balance and started flailing her arms in the air like a beached seal. Her boyfriend (poor guy) snatched at her elbow and just barely caught her before she hit the ground. I couldn't help but snicker; I'd scared the crap out of the Jonas brothers' fans with the squealy little voices.

"That was brilliant."

I turned to face Boomer, who was glaring at me with such loathing that I almost actually felt threatened by him.

"Like you're one to judge brilliance." I spat back at him, turning back towards the window, the gears in my brain whirring away. I stretched my superhearing past the stupid Jonas brothers and slipped into Buttercups' and Mitch's conversation.

"So do you want to…?" Mitch was asking.

"No, no; I'm not ready to be _that_ close…I mean, this is just a little spring dance; it's nothing…"

"It's not nothing. It's your first date. First love. And for me, well…you're here, Cuppo. And that makes it something."

*cough cough* _cheesy romantic line_ *cough cough cough*. But despite the cheesiness, a faint smile lit up B-cup's face and she flipped a lock of her raven black hair out of her face. But what was that creep asking her? I listened close, my heart seizing up. Was he asking her out? Like, to be his girlfriend? My knuckles turned white and I forgot to breathe.

"Sorry, Mitch, but I really don't want to… I just….yeah."

Mitch had tightened his loose grip around her waist, pulling her against him.

"Think about it." He breathed, leaning so close to her face that his nose almost touched her forehead. I could tell she was trying to restrain it, but she smiled, color rushing into her cheeks. I almost died. They were too close. About a millimeter away from a full-on kiss. I had to do **something**.

"Here; I've got something to show ya." Mitch said, suddenly tipping his head back from her face and breaking the tension; my breath came back again. I watched as he led her over to his backpack, which he had leaned against the far wall of the MPR. Was he going to pull out a gift for her or something? And probably a mushy love poem. What did she see in him anyways?

But the idea of the gift gave me an idea too. An awfully wonderful evil idea; a grin spread on my face and I whirled around to face Boomer.

"Quick; we've gotta act fast! You cause a diversion and I'm gonna fly over to the other side of the MPR real fast and shoot somethin' into Mitch's stupid backpack!"

He just blinked.

"Diversion!" I shoved him towards the window. "But don't show yourself!"

I grabbed something out of the backpack, my heart exploding with the thrill. I zipped around to the other side of MPR and peeked in one of the open windows that was right across the way from the window where we were sitting before. Mitch's backpack was right under me, propped against the wall, pretty far below the window where I was stationed. And, praise the powers that be, the backpack was hanging slightly open. I bet I could make the shot from here. But Mitch and Buttercup were almost to the backpack; come on, Boomer, come on! Mitch bent down, smiling, and was about to grab the zipper of his backpack when a tree, you hear me, a tree, crashed through one of the windows on the opposite side of the room from me. The base of its trunk hit the dance floor with a tremendous crash, its leaves scattering everywhere and broken glass raining down. Everyone in the MPR whirled around in horror and that's when I made my move. I shot my object of choice through my window and…score! It landed right in Mitch's open backpack, where it couldn't be seen from the outside. Just for a little fun, I squirted a little ketchup on it, snickering evilly. Take that, fiend. So I ducked down and kept my eyes sharp on Mitch and Buttercup, who were staring in horror at the tree.

It was pandemonium. Boomer had actually done his job right, for once. Girls screamed and clung to their dates; dudes stared while blinking like idiots; chaperones rushed in, shouting in panic; and the DJ started sucking on a cigar, looking extremely bored. Blossom was shouting and ranting, while Brick looked hard at that tree, glaring so ferociously that I half expected it to spontaneously combust. The chaperones yelled at the dancers to be quiet and stay put while the security guards burst in. Their mouths dropped open when they saw the tree and I laughed out loud.

"How the in the name of **hell** are we going to get that thing out of here?" a chocolate skinned, rotund, bald security guard exclaimed in amazement; a chaperone (an older lady with permanent frown wrinkles) glared at him for his use of language. "We'll have to send the kids home…"

The crowd erupted in boos and cries of fury; of course, nothing shall ruin their precious dance or the sky will fall. I bet they would only go home early if a party of terrorists started bombing the place, so of course they wouldn't leave on the account of a tree busting through a window.

"All right, all right…_calm down_!" Mr. Baldy Man the security guard thundered, raising his hands to silence the mob. "But we have to…"

Someone stepped out of the crowd and strode bravely toward the tree; it was Brick, his jaw clenched and his hands balled into fists. Oh god. I hoped Boomer had hidden himself good or else it was over. But Brick didn't make a move to try and find us; he fired his eye beams at the tree trunk until the whole thing fell to the floor in a pile of burnt cinders. Then he raised his arms, wind swirling around him and catching the tree ashes; he shot them out of the window with a movement of his wrist, and they probably all fluttered down on top of Boomer's shiny blonde head. Ha ha. Brick swept up the pieces of broken glass from the window and shot them in midair with his eye beams, melting them into a flexing sheet of twisting and waving glass, like the oily skin of a soap bubble. Red, crackling energy flowed from Brick's hands and forced the floating glass sheet into a sort of invisible mold, until it was the same shape and size as the original window. Blossom stepped up by his side and blew on the glass with her ice breath, hardening it into a solid sheet, which Brick caught and fit back into the empty window frame.

"Thank us later." Brick said calmly, his expression bored as he blew over his knuckles, like it was no trouble at all. The whole crowd cheered and in no time they were all dancing again, like stupid idiots. People these days. Before rejoining Blossom at the snack table, Brick shot a suspicious glare at the newly fixed window, evil glimmering in his eyes. It sent a shiver running up and down my spine, and I hoped Boomer was fine and unseen, wherever he was. A heard a faint coughing to my left and I whirled around; there was Boomer, floating above the windowsill, coated all over in a coat of gray ashes, like dust. I couldn't help but smirk as he wiped it off his cheek, coughing and shaking the stuff out of his hair.

"It's not funny." Boomer said flatly, brushing ash off of his sleeve.

"Sorry, but it is, dude."

"RRggh..!**Why **did I even **bother** to…?"

"Just watch. Look; stupid Mitch is gonna open his backpack."

Mitch and Buttercup had recovered from their shock and where crouching around Mitch's backpack. Buttercup was beaming, her face expectant, and Mitch was sickeningly triumphant. Die. His fingers grasped the flap of his backpack and he flipped it open; I held my breath. When his face faded into a look of horror, I knew I had succeeded. Sitting there in his backpack was the thong, the frilly, lacy, hot pink thong with the crotch cut out in a heart shape; it was all splattered with ketchup that at first glance looked like a lot like something else. I laughed out loud, triumph bubbling inside of me as Mitch quickly shut his backpack in bewilderment, his face burning bright red. Buttercup just stood there, dumbstruck, as if monkeys had just flown out of Mitch's ear. Mitch and Buttercup stared silently at each other for a while.

"Ummmm….I'm going to go..um..uh, get a snack." Buttercup said, quickly and uneasily, before scampering off for the snack table, her face flushed. Mitch swore loudly and tore the thong out of his backpack, sending it spinning out of the window; I had to duck so it wouldn't hit me in the face. Fuming, he rushed after Buttercup, his face still a bit red. Ha ha HA! Sweet success!

Grinning, I turned to Boomer, who was brushing the last of the ash off of his shoulder, chuckling faintly.

"I got him; didn't I? Huh? Who got him? Huh, who got him?" I playfully punched Boomer's shoulder and he laughed.

"**You** did." He replied, his face brightening. "But _**I**_ did the diversion."

"A freaking awesome diversion too." I added, thumping him on the back. "Nice work, secret accomplice."

We bumped fists; score one for the gatecrash team. And we were only getting warmed up. Hmm…what to do next? I mentally went through our supplies, searching my brain for some way I could possibly use them to further humiliate Mitch. I couldn't think of anything immediately, so I turned back to spying on the _lovely_ couple, motioning Boomer to do the same.

Mitch was dashing up behind Buttercup, who was taking an enormous bite out of a red velvet cupcake with a huge mound of cream frosting swirled in a mountain on top. (that's my girl)

"Hey, Cuppo…" he began breathlessly.

"Shut up, Thong Man." Buttercup spat, wiping crumbs from her mouth.

"Listen; that…that _thing_ was not in my backpack before; I freaking swear it!"

Buttercup turned around to face him, the bitten cupcake in her hand and an unimpressed expression on her face.

"Well…It certainly **was** in there when you opened it, huh? So unless some _thong fairy_ swept by and…"

"I think somebody's playin' tricks on us, girl. I mean, a _tree_ fell through the window? Right before I was going to show you my little present? It's-"

"That _thong_ was your 'little present?'"

"I didn't mean for the thong, all right! It wasn't in there the last time I checked; I think somebody snuck it in there when I wasn't lookin'!"

Ok, so the big galoot was a bit smarter than I thought. Buttercup took another bite of cupcake, still unmoved. She swiftly turned around and indignantly grabbed a cup of punch, glaring.

"What **was** your lovely gift, then?"

"It was a necklace. A necklace that I'd bought just for you. I swear. That one that you saw at the mall when we went last week, remember? It had that little skull pendant on it that said 'humanity sucks' on it or somethin'…"

"You really got that for me?" Buttercup's eyes widened in surprise. "I've been begging my dad to get it for ages!"

"Yeah; of course I got it! Here, I'll get it right now.."

He dashed back over to his backpack and Buttercup followed him, the little paper cup in her hand; I got an urge to punch him to the moon. He dug around in his backpack, pulled out a box, and held it out to Buttercup.

"Please just take it! I'm really sorry for the thong, ok? I didn't mean it; like I said, I think it was a prankster or somethin'. But please, I got the necklace just for you and-"

"All right, all right; let's see it." Buttercup took the box from him and flipped it open and gasped. "Oh, it really is that necklace!"

Mitch grinned and I felt like strangling him.

"I knew you'd like it."

Buttercup whipped it out of the box and fastened it around her neck, beaming. It was a small black skull pendant dangling from a dark green chain; the skull was engraved with the words 'humanity sucks...' A morbid little necklace. Buttercup smiled fondly at it, twisting the little skull back and forth in her hand; I saw that the back of the pendant was engraved with the words '…so kill yourself'. Very morbid indeed.

"Thanks."

"No, prob', Cuppo. Hey, you wanna dance again?"

Buttercup took his hand and together they walked back to the dance floor. My heart started going wild; I had to do something.

"Boomer, quick; we've gotta think of something fast, or those two are going to be smoochin' each other in three seconds flat!"

"Again?"

"Yes, **again**. C'mon; help me think of something!"

But I couldn't, so I settled for shooting more jacks. This time, it was a bull's-eye. Mitch screamed and clawed at the back of his neck, tearing out one lone jack, shiny and purple. He stared at it in the palm of his hand; his mouth wide open.

"What the hell…? What is **this**?"

"God, that looks kinda like one of Bubbles' stupid jacks…" Buttercup breathed, looking at it with disbelieving eyes. "No; **Bubbles** couldn't be…."

"Girl, maybe she is. Why didn't she come to the dance anyways?"

"Dude, she didn't even want to." Buttercup retorted, shaking her head. "Some idiots made fun of her last time so she decided not to. It can't be her doing all this weird stuff; it can't be."

Mitch shrugged, tossing the jack aside. They started dancing again, slowly, looking around carefully as they did. Damn. I didn't know how much longer we could stay hidden. With Brick AND those two looking out for trouble….yeesh. Boomer'll probably give us away or something. We had to clear Mitch out….FAST. Ok, ok, inventory, inventory…I mentally ran through our 'supplies', trying to come up with something else we could do to torture Mitch. I reached into the backpack and my hand touched the Yankees cap; I pulled it out and twirled it around in my hands, thinking. Hmmm…Ah, I know! We needed to give Mitch some competition. But not directly, because if I just walked up and started flirting with Buttercup, we'd be dead. We needed a crony, somebody we could talk into doing it for us…hmm….

"Ok, listen up, Boomer." I whispered to him, still holding the cap in my hands. "I'm thinkin' we're going to make the going tough for stupid Mitch. We need somebody to go give the idiot some competition."

"What? Are you…are you _serious_?"

"Of course I'm serious; why would we even be here if I wasn't serious? Shut up and help me look for somebody we could tempt…."

I squinted and scanned the crowd. Mitch and Buttercup were still slow dancing, and their mouths were hovering dangerously close.

"But…but this is crazy! What we give them in return?"

"I'll think of something…Hey, look at that guy down there!"

"**What** guy?" Boomer said, groaning.

"That guy, see, right over by the punch bowl. He's that kid who came with Stiletto Girl! Remember; that girl we saw coming into the dance with that wedding cake dress and 12 inch heels?"

Boomer didn't answer; his face was blank as his eyes followed the Stiletto Boyfriend; he was dejectedly pouring a cup of punch for Stiletto Girl, who was giggling stupidly and swiping strands of curled hair behind her ears. Stiletto Boyfriend had a stiff looking tux on that Miss Stiletto probably made him wear, judging on how he kept pulling at it with obvious hatred. He had shiny formal shoes that clicked and clacked when he walked, and he had bored, sleepy, dirt colored eyes with floppy brown hair to match. He kept looking off in the distance and talking to Stiletto Girl out of the corner of his mouth, so it was obvious that he didn't want to be there. He wasn't great looking but not hideous either; he would have to do.

"How are you going to ask him?" Boomer said. "We can't go in there…"

"No, we're going to get _him_ out _here_…oh, wait, there he goes out the door! C'mon!"

Boomer and I dropped down off the windowsill, leaving the backpack, and zipped around to the door of the MPR. There came Stiletto Boyfriend, clacking out of the front door. He paused by the door, looked back and forth, and then leaned against the wall, his head in his hands. Perfect. Boomer and I landed on the ground and strolled casually (well-tried to) up to the door, our hands in our pockets. Stiletto Boyfriend looked up when he heard our footsteps, surprised.

"What's up?" I raised my hand for a fist bump. He just sighed, turning away. Stiletto Girl must be the spawn of the devil. "Hey, what's wrong? You havin' a bad night?"

"Heck, yeah, **heck **yeah, dude." He breathed, wiping his forehead, his stress burning through. "I do not know in the name of god I really asked that girl out. Seriously…geez, she's a freaking nightmare. Honestly."

"Sorry. I feel for ya; I'm havin' a bad night too."

Stiletto Boyfriend looked at me, curious. Boomer hovered behind me and I could feel his uncertainty.

"Well, I really fell for this girl, ya see, and I was going to ask her to come with me to this dance, but she's already taken. By an _idiot_. She doesn't know, she just…rrrgh."

"Wow, dude, I'm sorry. That must suck."

"Yeah, I know. And, well, I was wonderin' if you could help me out."

Stiletto Boyfriend raised an eyebrow.

"Ok, I was hoping, just maybe, you could just go up and, ya know, act like you've got the hots for my girl. I thought maybe that'd turn the guy away from her or something. And heck, you could get away from that horrible girl of yours too, I mean…"

Stiletto Boyfriend stared at me.

"You want me to flirt with your girl?" he said in a disbelieving tone, his mouth hanging open. "For nothing?"

"No, no, no…Not for** nothing**!" I sputtered, searching my pockets frantically and finding only lint in there. Damn. "Boomer, go get the backpack."

After he'd handed it to me, I unzipped it and stuck my hand into it, digging around. Stiletto Boyfriend watched me, clearly unimpressed.

"Uhhh….I've got a battery charger, a...um…broken necklace, a potato peeler…" I felt the Barbie and decided to leave that out. "…some ketchup, a jump rope, some jacks…."

My hand felt fabric and I pulled out the Yankees cap.

"Oh yeah, and this."

I looked hopefully up at Stiletto Boyfriend and found him staring at the Yankees cap, practically drooling.

"Dude, where did you **get **this from?" he cried, swiping the cap from my hand and inspecting it with ecstatic eyes. "This is the authentic collector's edition cap, man! My god, I've been looking for this thing for..forever!"

Relief flooded through me like a tidal wave.

"You can have it if you help me out."

Stiletto Boyfriend hesitated for a second, his winning grin falling a bit. His muddy eyes darted between the cap in his hot little hands and my face for a few lingering seconds, and then he reluctantly held out his hand for a shake.

"You've got a deal, ummm…What's your name?"

I grabbed his hand and shook, grinning; Stiletto Boyfriend's eyes widened, noticing my lack of fingers. I could not believe it had taken him so long.

"I'm Butch." I said, twisting my grin a bit. "And you are….?"

"Joe." He said, staring at me and doing a pathetic job hiding it. Amusing. I slipped the Yankees cap out of his fingers and tucked it into the pack, smiling to myself.

"You can have it back when your job is done, ok?"

Stiletto Boyfriend, also called JOE, nodded blandly, still staring at me.

"Hey, aren't you one of those….?"

"…Rowdyruff Boys?" I finished for him. "Yep. And this here's Boomer, my bro."

I gestured towards him and Joe shifted his gaze, amazed.

"Wow."

I let him look for a moment before snatching the guy by the arm and steering him over to the front door of the MPR.

"So…..um, who's your girl?" Joe asked, fingering his stringy, dirt colored hair.

"Buttercup." I whispered, grinning widely. Joe's eyes nearly popped out of his head.

"You mean….the frickin' **Powerpuff Girl**?"

"Know any other Buttercups around here?"

"Dude, I can't flirt with her! She's just….Buttercup! You know…"

"Yeah, you can!" I encouraged, patting his shoulder. "She's easier to sway than you'd think."

Joe hesitated, wiping his brow with the back of his hand.

"I dunno, man…"

"C'mon; you won't get the hat unless you at least **try**. Ok?"

Joe swallowed and opened the door a crack, peering in. There was Buttercup, waltzing in the corner with her arms around Mitch's neck, clothed in darkness and sparkling with dancing rainbow flecks of light; my heart jumped. Her cheek was on his shoulder but her expression was blank, maybe even tense. Joe straightened his shoulders and strode in, his steps clacking. Boomer and I shot triumphant smiles at each other and zipped back up to the windowsill to watch the action, bubbles foaming up in my stomach.

My eyes were locked on Joe as he made his way across the dance floor, heading for Buttercup. The idiot had better do it right, please please please, oh freaking please. My heart thudded and sweat broke out on my forehead as I watched Joe, who was just hanging around near where Buttercup and Mitch were dancing. His eyes kept flickering towards Buttercup, and then sliding off innocently into the crowd. Oh, come on! A bead of sweat rolled down my cheek and I wiped it away with a shaking hand.

Then, a stroke of luck. Buttercup's skull necklace, which had been swinging dangerously on its thin chain, snapped free and went flying into the crowd. Buttercup let out a cry and immediately let go of Mitch; her dress whirled as she swung around and took off, searching for her necklace.

"Wait! Wait, wait, Cuppo, wait! Where are you goin'?"

"My necklace!" she cried, dropping to her knees and feeling all over the floor with her hands. "It broke off the chain and now it's gone!"

She crawled across the floor, muttering to herself, while Mitch knelt down beside her, trying to help her. Fat chance.

Suddenly Joe, who was standing stupidly nearby, brightened up like a light bulb. What had just crossed that idiot's mind? He took off like a streak, his shoes clacking, and then he knelt down by the punch table, reaching an arm under it. He smiled as he grasped something in his hand; then he straightened up and dashed back across the dance floor, heading straight for Buttercup and Mitch, who were still crouched on the floor, distressed.

"Hey…" he said softly, tapping B-cup on the shoulder. "You lookin' for something?"

She looked up, dumbstruck, and Joe held out his hand to her, smiling. Right there in his palm sat the little skull pendant, shining in the dancing lights. Buttercup's face broke into a relieved smile, her hands flying up to her face.

"Oh, thank **god**! Thank you thank you **thank you**!" she cried, taking the pendant in her hand and clutching it to her chest. She smiled up at Joe, her eyes sparkling beautifully, and my heart skipped a beat. "Who are you?; I don't think I've ever seen you 'round here before…man."

"Joe. I'm Joe." He held out his hand again and they shook, then he helped her to her feet. Mitch glared up at Joe from down on the floor, pure fury burning in his eyes; I stifled a laugh. What a loser.

"Want some punch?" Joe asked, his voice as warm as freshly baked cookies. "'Cause I can go get one for you; it'll be no trouble at all…"

"I'm comin' with ya." Buttercup interrupted, slipping the skull pendant into her dress pocket and then folding her arms and grinning in a very Buttercup way. "No arguing."

She and Joe drifted off to the punch bowl, side by side, leaving Mitch still kneeling on the floor like a pig nosed chimpanzee or a little naked Chihuahua. I'd never seen him so pissed; his face was flushed, his eyes were narrowed to evil little slits, and his teeth were gritted. Ha HA!

At the punch bowl, Joe spooned out a cup of punch and handed it to Buttercup; they were laughing and Buttercup's face was still sunny, spots of rainbow light twinkling in her eyes.

"How's your night going?" Buttercup asked, sipping her punch and smiling.

"Pretty crappy, actually." Joe answered truthfully, shrugging slowly. "My darn girlfriend is being…well…."

"Being what?"

Joe pointed over his shoulder with a thumb and Buttercup looked. Standing across the dance floor from them was Stiletto Girl, in all her cake dress glory, squealing about how she'd lost 'her dear Joey'. *Shudder.* Boy, I'd hate to be Joe. Buttercup felt the pain too, and she cringed.

"Wow, that stinks, dude. Why doncha dump her?"

"She just won't let me! I can never get a chance to…to talk to her!"

Buttercup nodded understandingly and the two stood in silence for a moment.

"I like your dress, by the way." Joe said, his voice cool and smooth. "Subtle, but…well, really nice."

"Thanks." Buttercup looked Joe up and down, that mischievous look in her eyes. She reached up and playfully tweaked the collar of his tux. "Nice tux, penguin."

Joe's face flushed a bit, but he countered it with a very cool shrug.

"My girlfriend." He answered simply.

My breathing smoothed out and the sweat cooled on my face; Joe actually seemed to know what he was doing! I sat there in a daze, unable to look away from Buttercup; then the mood was abruptly shattered by somebody stomping the warpath across the dance floor like a raging giant, shoving people out of his way. My breath caught in my throat; it was Mitch, with his fists clenched and fire in his eyes. Oh, god. My hands clutched the windowsill as I watched Mitch grab Joe by the collar and yell like Mt. St. Helens blowing its top off. Joe's eyes widened in horror, and Buttercup stared at them both, frozen. I couldn't even catch anything that Mitch was saying, but his enraged voice tore through the air and my mind, ripping it like paper. My breath came in gasps and my frantic hands accidentally broke a chunk of concrete from the windowsill. Oh freaking god. Before I could comprehend it, Joe was gone, running away through the crowd like a gazelle being chased by a lion, his shoes clacking frantically. Buttercup stared after him, dumbstruck. A horribly triumphant look swept over Mitch's face and he slung his arm around Buttercup's shoulder, walking her away.

"What a buttface, huh?" he said, chuckling. "Tryin' to lure you like that. Pfft. Loser."

Buttercup didn't answer. She stared straight ahead, her face pale and her eyes wide. Her hand was in her pocket, fingering the skull pendant.

"I hafta say, I've never seen such a pathetic display." Mitch rambled on. "That idiot deserved it. Because no one…**no one **lures MY girl. Right, Cuppo?"

Buttercup turned to look at him, but instead of smiling in support, she was glaring, a volcano alight in her narrowed eyes.

"What…? What the freakin' heck was THAT about, Mitch! Ugh, you….you…ape! How could you do something like this?"

Mitch leaned closer to her, his eyes wide in shock.

"You can't just go threatening people like that? AND I'M NOT YOUR FREAKING GIRL!" she screeched, lifting her arms to break away from him. But he leaned even closer and…kissed her. Right on the mouth. Boomer gasped. My heart sputtered and died.


End file.
